I Need to Know
by lebanesetoaster
Summary: I had been thinking about telling her. Before everything. I wanted her to know. I needed her to know before she slipped away. Before… before she stopped being the Abuela who raised me. I had this fear though. Deep inside—that maybe she had already slipped just a little too far. She started slipping long before anyone noticed. She knew. But no one wanted to see it.


I had been thinking about telling her. Before everything. I wanted her to know. I needed her to know before she slipped away. Before… before she stopped being the Abuela who raised me. I had this fear though. Deep inside—that maybe she had already slipped just a little too far. She started slipping long before anyone noticed. She knew. But no one wanted to see it.

I knew she was different. There were so many little things. Different things. She said things that were… off. She was so quick to reveal her weaknesses. I would answer the phone and hear her frown. She would forget to ask me how I was, and tell me about all of her aches and pains instead. She never would have done that before. Before, she would have asked me about everything. She would have asked me about glee club. Did I have a new song to sing for her? When could she see me on stage again? She would ask about Brittany. She had always loved Brittany. Britt spent as much of her childhood with my Abuela and me as she did her own family. She loved seeing me light up around Brittany. I always noticed that. She was so happy just to see me happy, and she knew Brittany made me happy.

I can't remember the last time she asked me about Britt, or glee, or anything. And I keep hearing my mother on the phone with her sister, talking about doctors and new medications, and the pained laugh I would hear when they recount the latest quirk. How she keeps forgetting to make sure the phone is hung up properly. How angry she gets at her doctors, even though they're doing their best. They laugh about it. But "laugh" isn't the right word. It sounds like a laugh, but you can hear the pain. You have to laugh, because you have to do something, and it's better than crying.

I hate that she's changing. I know she hates it too. I can feel the clock running down. It makes my heart beat fast and my stomach flip, because there are things I need her to know. I am so afraid to tell her though, and not just because she went to mass seven days a week, and was friends with all the nuns. She served on the alter when the alter boys were in school. That was the least of my worries. Well, no, that was the root of my worries. But… it grew from there. She has been obsessing about things. They get stuck in her head and she just worries, and worries, and worries about them. They stress her out and wear her down, and that's new. And it's getting worse.

My fear is that she's heard the pope speak too frequently about sins. About homosexuals. I'm afraid of what the priest said, seven sermons a week. I know she has said kind things about the gay man who taught the class across the hall, when she taught home ec, long before I was even born. Kind, charitable things about how she didn't judge him. But it's different. It will be different when it's her granddaughter. If she believes what the church tells her, and I know she does, then I am terrified that she will think I am going to hell. Not because I think she will condemn me, but because she will worry for me.

I am terrified that she will obsess. I try not to bite through my lip as I think how my supposed sin will eat at her. I am so scared that she will be worried for me, for my soul. I don't want her to think that way. I don't want to worry her. I don't want her terrified because she thinks she won't see me in heaven. If she's terrified, she won't be able to shake it off. It will torment her, and that, in turn, will torment me. But I don't know that will happen. I fear it. I don't really have any idea how she will react.

But it all comes back to me needing her to know. I need her to know that I'm in love. I need her to remember how happy Brittany makes me. I need her to remember it, but most of all, I need her to know what it means. I need her to understand that, and to accept that.

I need… I need to know that she will always love me, and not just in spite of the fact that I'm gay. I need it to not matter. I just need to know she loves me forever.

But I am afraid.

And I'm obsessing. And I'm worrying. All the things that I don't want her to do. I'm doing them myself. My mind jumps from one thought to the next, but I keep coming back to a picture in my head. A picture that I'm too young to be thinking of. A picture I'm barely ready to admit that I have. I haven't even told Brittany.

I can't help it though. I picture my future. I'm holding my daughter. She looks so much like Britt, but she has my nose… she crinkles it the same way I did at her age. I can hardly believe that I let myself imagine a moment so perfect. My daughter is asking me about her great grandmother. I want to look into my daughter's eyes, and tell her how much Abuela would have loved her. How she would have adored her, and spoiled her, and blown bubbles on the porch with her. I want to tell her how full of love she was, for me, for Brittany, and for our family. I don't want to hide a shadow behind my eyes when I tell her these things. I don't want to doubt a word that I'm saying.

I need to know it's true. I need to know that my grandmother's love will last forever, and can't be tarnished by anything. I need her to tell me that.

Before she fades away.

I need to know.


End file.
